


Everything Will Be Alright

by CaptMazPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Meetings, Injury, Love at First Sight, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptMazPrime/pseuds/CaptMazPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>A jubilant feeling filled Jazz. Maybe he hadn’t been so inept after all. He definitely counted this encounter as a victory. And if there was one thing he had learned, it was this: he completely infatuated with the head of the Tactical Division.</em>
  <br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-</p>
</div><br/>Jazz reflects on his relationship with Prowl as the tactician lays in medbay in critical condition.
            </blockquote>





	Everything Will Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> I had an overwhelming need to write some Jazz/Prowl, so this is what I came up with. I have no idea why it took me so long to write but whatever. It's been months since I last completed anything, so this was quite refreshing for me.  
> As always, if you spot any typos or other errors feel free to point them out to me.

He feels numb as he runs down the hall to get to the medbay. His spark feels cold in his chassis and he’s fairly certain that it has stopped beating. He sees his comrades trying to talk to him, calm him down, but their words fall on deaf audios. He continues forward and with each step his dread grows.

Before he knows it he’s standing in front of the medbay doors. He shoves his way inside despite the protests made by the orderlies by the entrance.

“Jazz! You can’t be in here!” Ambulon steps in front of the saboteur. His voice sounds distant, almost as if he’s underwater.

Jazz ignores him and tries to push past the medic.

“Stop!”

A few other medics come to Ambulon’s aid and attempt to restrain the distraught mech who has barged into their medbay.

“Lemme go!” Jazz cries out. “Get off me!”

“You cannot be in here, Jazz! We can’t have any distractions.” Ambulon’s optics grow sad and fill with pity. “I’m sorry. But we’re doing everything we can.”

Jazz looks past the medic in front of him. Ratchet and First Aid are leaning over a medical slab, working at an incredible speed. First Aid looks up warily at him and there it is again--that pitying look.

“First Aid!” Ratchet barks, noticing the younger medic’s lack of attention.

First Aid ducks his helm. “Sorry.” He quickly goes back to work on the patient who is sprawled out on the slab.

The patient… Oh Primus…

Jazz can see Prowl’s mangled form from here and it’s sickening. His left doorwing has been ripped to shreds and is barely hanging on--his right doorwing is gone completely. His servos are bent at odd angles and he is missing his right pede. His charred, smoking chassis is leaking energon in amounts that could make even the strongest of mechs queasy. There’s a dent in the side of his helm that definitely isn’t a good sign. And his faceplates...they’re contorted in agony and it takes all of Jazz’s strength not to break down and cry in the middle of the medbay.

“But Prowl…” Jazz begins.

“Barging in here isn’t going to help him,” Ambulon states. “Please, Jazz, don’t make me call Ironhide down here.”

Jazz wants to protest. He wants to tell Ambulon that he has every right to be by Prowl’s side. He wants to scream and cry and curse Primus’s name. But deep down he knows that the medic is right. There is nothing he can do here. He can’t help Prowl like this. He would only get in the way and he knows it.

With a growl of frustration, the saboteur turns away from Ambulon and pushes the other medics off of him. He storms back to the medbay doors without a word. He makes a note to apologize later because right now he doesn’t trust himself to speak. As he’s passing through the doors he glances back over his shoulder, getting another glimpse at Prowl.

Jazz bolts from the medbay and down the hall, emotions out of control. All he wants to do right now is get away from everyone else and break down. He can’t take it anymore. Prowl is in critical condition and there isn’t a single slagging thing he can do about it.

_I’m sorry, Prowl. I’m so sorry._

///

“How’re ya liking Iacon so far?” Blaster asked conversationally.

“S’not like I’ve had much time to check it out, but it’s alright from what I’ve seen,” Jazz replied.

“I doubt it’s like Polyhex, but Iacon grows on ya, that’s for sure.”

Jazz had recently been restationed to Iacon. He was head of Autobot Special Operations. With the war heating up, Optimus Prime had decided that it would be best to have his officers at his side. Jazz had left Polyhex and come to Iacon at his leader’s command. Coming here would not have been his first choice, but if the Prime thought it was best then he would obey orders. Iacon was definitely an impressive city, there was no doubt about that. Of course the Autobot capital would be monumental. But Jazz had been sparked and raised in Polyhex. To him, there was no place better on all of Cybertron.

“We’ll see,” Jazz told his friend.

Blaster grinned in response.

The two mechs were on their way to an officer’s meeting Optimus was holding since all high ranking officers had finally arrived in Iacon. Jazz had been among the last few to show up.

The upper halls of Iacon Base Command were nearly void of other bots, so Jazz and Blaster made it to their destination relatively quickly. The two mechs approached the double doors that lead to the meeting room. Blaster typed in the authorization code, signalling for the doors to slide open.

As they stepped inside, Jazz took in the room. It was relatively well lit and quite spacious. A large, round table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs. High-ranking officers sat at each spot. Optimus Prime was seated at the far side of the room.

Blaster and Jazz saluted the Prime.

“I am pleased that you could make it, Jazz,” Optimus said with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure t’ be here, sir,” Jazz replied.

Optimus nodded and the two mechs took their seats. Within a few breems, all of the officers had filtered into the room. Optimus began the meeting.

“First, I would like to thank all of you that have traveled a great distance to come here,” the Prime started. “It has become apparent to us that your skills would be put to better use here in Iacon. I believe it would be best to fill you all in on the status of our operations at Iacon. My Tactical Officer, Prowl, will debrief all of you.” Optimus gestured to the mech sitting next to him, who immediately stood up.

Jazz’s optics widened a fraction under his visor as he stared at the mech that had just gotten up from his seat. His bright, red chevron stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his black and white frame. He had icy, blue optics that glowed brightly as he scanned the datapad in his servo. He stood in a rigid stance, broken only by the fluid motions of his doorwings.

It was a good thing Jazz had good self control. Otherwise he might have muttered his next thought outloud.

_Hot damn._

“There has been a large increase in Decepticon activity in the last decaorn.” Prowl began the debrief immediately. “The severity of their attacks has also increased. Our own supplies have also been dwindling as of late, so the Tactical Division has deduced that…”

As the tactician continued the debrief, Jazz’s focus shifted from his words to his voice. He sounded melodic in a way. His tone was steady and his volume never got too loud. He did not trip over his words, nor did he sound forced in any way.

_I bet he’s an amazin’ singer…_

Jazz knew that at this rate he would have to ask Blaster go over the debrief with him again once the meeting was over, but he didn’t care. Right now all he wanted to do was memorize every detail about Prowl.

///

It wasn’t until a few orns after the meeting that Jazz came into contact with Prowl again.

The saboteur had yet to receive any actual assignments since he had come to Iacon. He had taken it upon himself to get situated in this new environment and that included wandering the base in order to get a sense of where everything was located. That was exactly what he was doing now. And it was a complete coincidence that he was near the Tactical Division’s main operations room of course.

As Jazz turned down another hall he jumped back, barely avoiding bumping into a mech walking in the opposite direction.

“Sorry, I should really look where I’m goin’,” he apologized quickly. He stopped when he saw who he had almost run into.

“No harm done. Though I trust you will be more watchful next time,” Prowl stated calmly.

Jazz stared dumbly at the tactician for a few moments before getting ahold of himself. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” He nearly kicked himself for his feeble answer. What was wrong with him? He was head of Special Ops; he was supposed to remain calm under pressure! It wasn’t as if Prowl was the first mech he had found attractive. He had had his fair share of relationships in the past, nothing serious but relationships nonetheless. So why was this mech making him lose his cool?

Prowl nodded and began to continue on his way down the hall.

Jazz found himself not wanting to lose contact with the tactician just yet. Maybe he could stall him for just a moment longer…

“So, where are ya off to?” Jazz asked. It was the first thing that had come to mind.

Prowl stopped walking and turned around to face Jazz again. “I am on my way to refuel.”

Jazz saw an opportunity present itself and he took it.

“What a coincidence! I was gonna go refuel too.”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “Is that so? I believe you were headed in the wrong direction then.”

Thinking quickly, Jazz said, “Ah yeah, it’s pretty easy to get lost in this place. I’ve only been here a few orns now. Still haven’t mapped the whole place out yet, ya know?”

The tactician studied the saboteur for a moment. “Yes, I suppose one could very easily get lost here.”

“How ‘bout you show me the way to the rec room then? So I don’t get lost.” Blaster had shown Jazz where the rec room was on his first orn in Iacon, but Prowl didn’t need to know that.

Prowl considered what Jazz had said for a moment before he gave him a tiny nod. “Yes, I can show you the way to the rec room. Follow me then.”

Once Prowl had his back turned, Jazz grinned widely at his victory. He picked up the pace to catch up to the tactician.

Prowl didn’t seem to be one for much conversation, so Jazz stayed quiet as they made their way to the rec room. It was at times like this that he was most thankful for his visor. Prowl couldn’t see him scanning his frame.

The mech--who was obviously of Praxian descent, given away by the doorwings and chevron--took very measured steps. His tread was light, though not as stealthy as the saboteur's. His doorwings were held high. Most of the Praxians Jazz had met in the past had very active doorwings that were always twitching or bobbing, but Prowl’s were almost completely still. Yet when they did move, each movement was quick and smooth. His EM field was tight and gave off a cool aura.

There was no doubt about it.

This was one beautiful mech.

As they passed through the doors of the rec room, Prowl looked back at Jazz and nodded again.

“We have arrived at the rec room. I am glad that I was able to assist you, Jazz,” he said.

Jazz perked up. “I haven’t even introduced myself and ya already know my name.”

“You are a fellow officer. I have familiarized myself with my coworkers.” Prowl began to make his way to the energon dispensers and Jazz followed.

“So you’ve read my file?” Jazz asked.

“I have read the files of every Autobot here at Iacon Base Command,” Prowl replied smoothly. “The more information I have on the Autobots under our command, the more effective the strategies I can come up with are.”

Jazz made a thoughtful noise. “That’s true I suppose.”

Jazz tried to think of something else that he could say to keep the conversation going as the two mechs filled their energon cubes. Before he could speak however, another mech approached them.

“Oh hey, Prowl!” the gray mech greeted happily. Like Prowl, he was a Praxian.

Prowl turned his helm to look at the other Praxian. “Bluestreak.”

“I haven’t seen you come to the rec room in a while. I was starting to worry that you weren’t getting enough energon! Not like that’s surprising though, knowing how you get so absorbed in your work. Did Ratchet threaten you again?” Bluestreak spoke quickly and his energetic tone was almost infectious.

“If you must know, Ratchet did in fact send me a... _polite reminder_ to refuel this orn,” Prowl told the gray mech.

“Right. ‘Polite.’ We both know Ratchet doesn’t know what that word means.” Bluestreak laughed. “How about you come refuel with me and Smokescreen? We haven’t had time to sit down and talk in so long!”

“We spoke just a few orns ago.”

“Yeah! That’s way too long ago!”

Prowl rolled his optics. Then he looked back at Jazz. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jazz. Perhaps we will be able to speak again another orn.”

_Perhaps we will be able to speak again another orn._

_Speak again._

The saboteur grinned at the black and white mech standing before him and nodded. “I’ll see ya around then.”

Prowl returned the smile. Then he joined Bluestreak and walked over to the other side of the rec room.

A jubilant feeling filled Jazz. Maybe he hadn’t been so inept after all. He definitely counted this encounter as a victory. And if there was one thing he had learned, it was this: he completely infatuated with the head of the Tactical Division.

///

As soon as he received his mission orders, Jazz decided that Primus was on his side and every good deed he had ever done was finally paying off. Either that or he was just extremely lucky.

The orders were as follows:

>   
>  _Officer Jazz,_  
>  _There has sharp increase in Decepticon activity in Sector A-7. A scouting party has determined the location of a Decepticon encampment in said sector. You have been selected to obtain the hard drive located in this encampment. The hard drive will then be decrypted by a field tactician who will then decide whether or not you will terminate the encampment. You are to report to Central Command at 18oo joors. At 1830 joors you and Officer Prowl, the field tactician for this mission, will depart from Iacon Base Command and travel to the encampment._

While the mission itself was of a serious matter, Jazz couldn’t stop the excitement he felt. His first mission since arriving in Iacon and he would be partnered with Prowl.

At 1800 joors he had reported to Central Command to find Prowl waiting for him. After another debriefing on the mission from Optimus, the two had set off to Sector A-7 at exactly 1830 joors. Prowl had insisted that they be punctual.

So now Jazz was driving alongside Prowl, their spark signatures cloaked to hide their approach. They only communicated through an encrypted, private comm.

:So, Prowl,: Jazz started, :I’ve been thinking. Ya need a nickname.:

The two mechs had been communicating with each other ever since their encounter in the Tactical Division hall. It had not taken Jazz much time to figure out that Prowl was an incredibly professional mech. So after some careful thought, Jazz had decided that the best way to approach the mech was through work. He would drop by the Tactical Division from time to time and strike up a conversation with Prowl whenever it seemed like he wasn’t too busy. While the topic of their discussion never deviated much from work, Jazz was perfectly content. He knew that Prowl wasn’t the type of mech that he could approach too directly. So he was biding his time for a better moment to create a more personal relationship with the tactician.

And this seemed like as good a moment as any to do just that.

:A nickname?: Prowl sounded confused. :Do you mean a codename for the mission? If so, I do not think that will be necessary.:

Jazz chuckled over the comm. :Naw, I mean a _nickname_. I like givin’ my friends nicknames and you don’t have one yet.:

:You like to give your friends nicknames…:

Neither of them had ever called the other a friend before. In fact, Jazz didn’t even know what Prowl’s opinion of him was.

_Time to find out._

:Yup!: Jazz continued to drive at a steady pace, even though he had the urge to speed up.

:Well I--: Prowl suddenly slowed down. :My sensors are picking up nearby Decepticons.:

Jazz’s sensors said the same. :We gettin’ close to the encampment then?:

:Yes.:

_Great timing._

Jazz slowed down as well. They transformed into bipedal mode and ducked behind a building that had long been abandoned.

“We don’t know the exact location of the hard drive, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of where it’ll be,” Jazz told Prowl. “I can sneak in and get out with it for you to decrypt.”

Prowl shook his head. “I will need to decrypt it on site. There is an 79% chance that we will have to terminate the encampment. Successful termination is at 84% if we only enter the encampment once. If we return a second time the chance of discovery goes up by 15% and successful termination drops to 68%. I have determined that it is best to go with the route with the higher success rate for this mission.”

Jazz mulled over that information. “All good points, but it would be easier for me to get to the hard drive on my own. I mean, no offense, but this kinda thing is my expertise.”

“I may not be as stealthy as you, but I can guarantee that I will not get in your way. This will not be my first infiltration mission.”

Not only was Prowl professional, but he was also stubborn. Jazz could tell that the tactician was not going to budge on the matter.

“Alright,” Jazz relented. “We’ll both go in. Follow my lead an’ we should be able to avoid any ‘Cons that come our way.”

Prowl nodded. Finally coming to an agreement, the two moved closer to the outskirts of the encampment, leaving their cover behind. From the spark signatures that he was picking up on his scanners, Jazz figured that there were about 15 Decepticons spread out in the encampment. That wasn’t a definite amount however, as there could be Cons with spark dampeners activated. They would have to be careful.

The encampment itself was located in an abandoned building in the outskirts of Sector A-7. It was in relatively good condition compared to the other buildings in the sector. Sector A-7 had been the site of a recent battle with the Decepticons; it had been hastily evacuated and severely damaged. The Decepticons had most likely used the battle as a way to draw Autobot attention away from their more secretive activities. They must have set up the encampment sometime during or after the battle.

Jazz hacked his way past the reinforced door with a few simple codes and slipped inside the building with Prowl at his heels. He immediately turned down a side hallway to avoid the Decepticons coming their way.

Jazz switched on their private comm. :The safest way through here should be through the ventilation system.:

Prowl sent him an affirmative confirmation through a quick ping over the comm. Jazz scanned the hall. It didn’t take him long to spot the vent that they could make their way through. He quickly pulled it off the wall and slipped inside. Prowl tucked his doorwings as flat against his back as possible and followed him.

The hard drive would probably be on one of the upper levels of the building. So that was where they were headed. Due to the dilapidated condition of the building, they had to take a few detours as to not fall through the vents and onto the Decepticons beneath them. Despite these detours they were still able to make it to the upper levels without a problem.

Jazz sweeped the floor beneath them with a quick scan. Just as he had suspected, the hard drive was on this level.

:The hard drive is on this floor,: he told Prowl. :This is where we get out.:

He popped the vent out of place, grabbing it before it could fall and hit the ground. Then he silently slid out of the vent. Prowl was right behind him. Upon leaving the vent he stretched his doorwings out, grimacing a bit. It obviously had not been comfortable for him to crawl through the vent.

The two Autobots moved through the halls as quietly as possible. They still had not drawn any unwanted attention. If things continued this way they would be able to get out without a problem.

Jazz held up a servo to signal that they were stopping. The room containing the hard drive was up ahead.

:It’s in that room up there.:

Prowl swept a scan over the area. :There are two Decepticons guarding the door.:

:I’ll take ‘em out.:

Prowl nodded in consent.

The saboteur crept through the dimly lit hall. The Decepticon guards had their backs facing him. They never saw him coming.

With just a few, quick movements, Jazz unsheathed the blades in his wrists. He delivered sharp, precise stabs to both of their helms in less than a nanoklik. The Cons did not stand a chance. Their offline bodies dropped to the ground. He then turned to hack into the door as Prowl approached him.

“You are very efficient,” the tactician remarked, making sure to keep his voice down. “Though that is to be expected of the head of Special Operations, I suppose.”

“Heh. I’m in my element. This is what I do best.” The door slid open. “Here we go.”

Jazz and Prowl entered the room. The only light source in the dark room was the screen of a large console hooked up in the center of the room. And that was where the hard drive was.

“Should I take out the hard drive for ya?” Jazz asked.

“That is unnecessary.” Prowl marched up the the console. He knelt beside it and opened up a panel, revealing the hard drive underneath. “I will sync up with the hard drive and decrypt it. It should not take too long.”

“Alright then.”

Prowl connected his wrist cord to the hard drive’s port. Jazz watched the tactician work. His blue optics brightened until they were nearly white. Then he got incredibly still, doorwings standing up straight on his back. The mech was absorbed in his work, completely focused on his task. Jazz realized that the tactician was trusting him to watch his back while he worked. He had faith in him. Prowl hadn’t even seemed the least bit worried that Jazz would fail at his role.

Pulling cord out of the hard drive, Prowl stepped away from the console. “The Decepticons are using this encampment as a base of operations here in Iacon. The lower levels of the building have been cleared away for equipment intended to dig a tunnel system underneath Iacon for Decepticon use.”

“Slag, that ain’t good,” Jazz said.

“Indeed. We must terminate this encampment before they have a chance to begin their excavation.”

It was at this moment that the mission began going downhill. Unbeknownst to the Autobots, an alarm had been triggered when Prowl had pulled the panel away from the hard drive.

“Then let’s blow the place sky-high. I’ll set the charges.” Jazz slapped a bomb onto the console. “I’ll place these as we go. We’ve got ‘bout 10 breems before they go off. That should be more than enough time for us t’ get outta here.”

Prowl nodded. “We will need to get moving then.”

They made their way to the door and exited the room… to find Decepticons waiting outside for them.

“Servos where we can see ‘em, Autoscum!” one of the Decepticons snarled.

Neither Jazz nor Prowl had any intention of surrendering. In a flash, both mechs were moving. Jazz’s blades pierced the two nearest Cons. He ducked under an arm cannon and skewered a third.

Prowl pulled a rifle from subspace. With precise and even blasts, he shot at the Cons. Two helmshots and three blasts that went straight through their sparks.

“There’ll be more where that came from,” Jazz told Prowl, stepping over the offline bodies. “We gotta go.”

They took off down the hall. They would not have time to travel through the ventilation system to get out. Taking the direct root was their best option. As they ran, Jazz slapped charges onto the walls. Whenever a Decepticon rounded the corner, Prowl would deliver a quick shot to their helm.

As they reached the lower levels where the exit was located, an ambush took them by surprise.

The two Autobots were nearly to the door Jazz had hacked open. Prowl suddenly stiffened.

“There are--”

He was cut off when a plasma blast went straight through his right doorwing. The tactician cried out in surprise and pain, rifle knocked from his grasp.

Jazz whirled around. How had they not sensed the approach of more Cons? Spark dampeners, as he had made a note of before. He cursed himself for not being more careful.

“Slag! You alright?” he asked, steadying his companion.

“I am functional.” Prowl looked behind him distastefully. “We have company.”

A group of four Decepticons had gathered behind them, weapons drawn.

“Well, well, well. Would ya look at what we’ve got here,” a red Con purred. “A couple of Autobots slinking around.” He glanced at his fellow Decepticons. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

The other Cons grunted out various forms of agreement.

“Let’s just get rid of ‘em!” a mech in the back of the group exclaimed.

“Don’t you know who those two are?” the red Con asked. “Autobots Prowl and Jazz. Those are high ranking officers; SiC and TiC, no less!” Red optics narrowed. “They’re bound to have valuable information. I’m sure Lord Megatron would just love it if we brought them in.”

Agreement rippled through the group.

“Well this ain’t good,” Jazz murmured.

Prowl opened up the comm. :We cannot allow ourselves to be captured.:

:I agree.: Jazz kept his gaze locked on the Decepticons. :This place is gonna blow in two breems. If we hold out ‘til then…:

:We will be caught in the blast.:

Prowl was right. Jazz had set up bombs all over the building. It would not take long for the whole place to go up in flames. And when it did there wouldn’t be anything left of anyone still inside. But this was not the first time Jazz had been in a tight situation like this. And, luckily, the Decepticons that had caught them off guard didn’t look all too bright.

:Your doorwing is injured. Can ya still transform?:

:I believe so, yes.:

:The exit’s right in front of us. We can make a break for it just before the bombs detonate. Those Cons’ll be more focused on the explosion than us. Make it through the door and transform to vehicle mode. Then we hightail it outta here. That bomb’s gotta pretty big radius, so there’s no way we’ll get out unscathed...but if we move fast enough we can minimize damage. Ya understand?:

:I do.: Prowl glanced at Jazz. :That was quite a good plan. Let’s hope it works.:

Jazz smirked at the compliment. So he had impressed Prowl? Score.

“Unless you Autobots want holes in your helms, I suggest you come quietly,” the red Con barked.

“Ha! As if, ya dirty Con!” Jazz quipped. Less than one breem now…

The Con growled. “Have it your way.” He gestured to the rest of his group. “Get ‘em!”

“Go!” Jazz exclaimed suddenly, making for the exit. Prowl was right behind him.

“Hey!” The Decepticons were on their tail, taking shots at them.

And then the first bomb went off.

The whole building shook violently, sending mechs tumbling to the floor.

“What the slag!”

Taking advantage of the Decepticons’ disarray, Jazz and Prowl bolted through the exit and transformed. They drove as fast as they could, but it did not take long for the fiery explosion to catch up with them. The two Autobots were violently thrown forward, crashing into a nearby building.

As the flames around them died down, Prowl transformed back into bipedal mode. Jazz did the same.

“Are you functional?” Prowl asked him.

If Jazz didn’t know any better, he might say that Prowl sounded worried for him. “I’m alright. You?”

Prowl nodded. The encampment had crumpled to the ground, plumes of ash and smoke spewing into the air. There was no way any of the Decepticons inside had survived.

“I must say, I was quite impressed with your plan,” Prowl admitted.

“This is what I do best, remember? And hey, ya weren’t too shabby either,” Jazz told him.

“Thank you.”

As the two prepared to make their way back to the base, Jazz stopped and snapped his digits.

“I got it!” he exclaimed. “ _Prowler_!”

Prowl cocked his helm. “Excuse me?”

“Your nickname.” He pointed at the tactician. “You’re _Prowler_.”

“I do not understand these nicknames you come up with,” Prowl said, raising an optic ridge. “My designation is Prowl, not ‘Prowler.’”

“Aw, come on, my mech! All the cool Bots got nicknames, nowadays.” Jazz laughed. “And I like ‘Prowler.’ It’s charmin’.”

Prowl tsked but said nothing else, causing Jazz to laugh again.

_I think Prowler and I hit it off quite nicely._

///

They were friends. Everyone in Iacon knew that. Jazz and Prowl. Prowl and Jazz. The two bots balanced each other out. If Prowl was overworking himself (which happened relatively often), Jazz could always convince him to take a break and relax. If Jazz ever got up to no good (the twins were a terrible influence on anyone they came into contact with), Prowl could reel him back in.

So it was really no surprise when they took their relationship to the next level.

Both Autobots were working the late shift in Central Command. They sat side by side at the main console. Prowl kept his focus on the screens in front of him, despite the fact that they displayed no activity. It was a slow night.

Jazz was studying the mech next to him. He did that a lot. The saboteur liked to watch his friend. He always picked up new, little details about him. The way Prowl would tap his digits on the table after he had been sitting for a while. The way his doorwings rose with anger or anticipation and fell with disappointment or sadness. The way he would grow completely still when he became absorbed in his work. The way his gaze never wavered from the task at hand.

Those icy, blue optics, masked with a cold disposition yet filled with so much emotion.

“You’re staring.”

Jazz blinked. “Huh?”

Prowl turned away from the console to look at him. “You are staring. Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Ha!” Jazz chuckled a bit. “No, nothing’s wrong, Prowler.”

Prowl’s lip plates formed a small frown at the nickname. “It’s Prowl.”

“Whatever ya say, _Prowler_ ,” Jazz teased.

“Hmm.”

Silence fell over the room. But neither Bot went back to work (not like there was any work to be done anyway). They continued looking at each other.

The dim light illuminated the Praxian. His black and white armor was smooth and gleaming. His optics glowed brightly, lighting up his handsome faceplates. His lip plates, turned down slightly in the corners, just asking to be…

_Primus...why do you have to be so slaggin’ beautiful, Prowl?_

Never before had a mech made Jazz so flustered. It was then that Jazz realized that he had never been in love like this before. Not _truly_ in love. He’d had his fair share of lovers in the past, but it had never gone anywhere. None of them had made him feel like... _this_.

Prowl shifted in his seat, gaze lowering for a moment. He seemed to be mulling something over.

“Jazz--”

“Prowl, I--”

They both stopped, not wanting to talk over the other.

“I apologize,” Prowl said. “You may speak.”

“No, no, you go first,” Jazz insisted.

Prowl hesitated. “I...I am not proficient at expressing my emotions. However, I must tell you that I…” He trailed off and considered his words. “I find you...captivating.”

_I find you captivating._

Captivating.

Jazz was quiet. He had been shocked into silence, really. For over a vorn, he had been bewitched by this tactician, the Prime’s Second in Command. He had made sure to take great care in cultivating his relationship with the mech. There could be no missteps. No mistakes. No irreversible errors. This was the first time he had ever taken anything like this this slow. And now, after all this waiting, all this yearning, the slagger was _making the first move himself_!

“I apologize if I’ve--”

Jazz burst out laughing.

Prowl looked startled. “I… er…”

“Primus, of course it would turn out this way!” Jazz tried to get ahold of his laughter, but found that he could not.

“If I have upset you then I--”

“Upset me? Nah! I’m the _opposite_ of upset!” Jazz began to calm himself down, quieting his laughter. “It’s just… Primus, after all this time _you_ were the one to make a move on _me_. Guess ya could say I’m just surprised it wasn’t the other way around.”

“The...other way around?”

Jazz grinned. “I feel the same way.” He reached forward and held Prowl’s servo. “It’s like ya said: I find _you_ captivatin’.”

Prowl’s faceplates heated. Jazz couldn’t remember a time the tactician had been flustered before.

_Captivating._

_I think I woulda worded it as: hot as hell._

The room suddenly felt a little warmer.

_Or maybe smokin’._

There was no one else there. It was just the two of them. Alone.

_Stunnin’, sleek, slick, fine._

The two Autobots began to lean closer.

_Drop-dead gorgeous._

They had privacy. Not even Red Alert was looking (he was confined in medbay--Ratchet’s orders). It would not have mattered either way though. Since when was love a crime?

Their lip plates met and an exhilarating feeling ran through Jazz’s frame. Their digits were intertwined; their knee joints touched. They pulled closer and closer still. Jazz couldn’t bear to be any farther apart. He never wanted to let go.

_He’s so warm._

Prowl filled Jazz with a warmth he had missed for so long. Any despair he might have felt before had vanished. Everything was alright as long as Prowl was here with him.

Jazz lost track of time while they were like this. But eventually they pulled away. He opened his optics to meet Prowl’s. There was a softness in the tactician’s optics that Jazz had not seen before. A look of bliss that was new to him.

Prowl offered him a small, sheepish smile.

Yes, everything was alright.

///

Prowl is stable. He’s still in bad shape, but Ratchet says he should pull through. He also says that they will have a better idea of his condition when he awakens. Then they can continue operating. But until then, Jazz is allowed to stay by his side.

So stay by his side he does.

Jazz has spent the last few orns in the medbay. Once he was permitted to reenter, he refused to leave. Nobody dares approach him. Waves of agony and despair are just rolling off him.

Jazz holds Prowl’s servo. He considers himself to be an optimistic mech. He has to be. Morale is important to the performance of his fellow Autobots. He tries to stay calm in the hopes that they will too.

But he’s not too optimistic right now. How can he be? Who could expect him to be? His spark aches and he feels himself losing his grip. Prowl has been his anchor in this war. Prowl has been his reason to keep fighting even when it appears as if all is lost.

He _needs_ Prowl.

It starts out as just a flicker. A spark of blue in Jazz’s line of sight. He blinks and it’s gone. As he is about to disregard it, the blue light comes back again. And this time it isn’t flickering out.

Prowl’s optics are open. He’s online.

“Prowl! Prowl, can you hear me?” Jazz jumps from his seat and leans over the tactician. He can hear Ratchet swiftly approaching, as he must have heard Jazz’s outburst.

“Jazz…” Prowl’s voice is quiet and strained. He sounds tired. “The battle… what…”

Jazz shushes him. “It’s alright. We won. Barely, but we it was a victory.”

“Ah. Good.”

Ratchet pushes Jazz out of the way. “First Aid! Get your aft over here!” He turns to Jazz. “You. Leave.”

“I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I know Prowler’s okay,” Jazz says defiantly.

Ratchet growls. “Fine. But be quiet while we run a diagnostic.”

Jazz steps back to let the medics work. His gaze never wavers from Prowl. He’s afraid that if he looks away Prowl will disappear. It’s an irrational thought, but it’s present in his mind nonetheless. He refuses to let Prowl slip away.

After working for what Jazz thinks must be an eternity, Ratchet sets down his tools.

“You’re no longer in critical condition,” the medic states. “But you’ll still need to undergo an operation to fix--” He gestures to Prowl’s mangled form. “--all of this. You’ll live.”

Ratchet continues on, but Jazz is no longer listening.

_Prowl will live._

_Prowl will_ live.

Jazz nearly collapses on the floor. His bondmate is going to survive. It is going to be alright.

_Everything_ will be _alright_.

“...We won’t start operating just yet. You need to get some rest first.” Ratchet whirls around to look at Jazz. “Now you can say your sappy goodbyes or whatever, but then get out of my medbay. Prowl needs to _rest_.” He leaned in threateningly. “Cause any stress on him whatsoever and I will melt you down and sell your parts for scrap.”

“Ya don’t gotta worry, Ratch. I’ll be quick,” Jazz reassures him quickly.

Ratchet rolls his optics. He struts away from the medical berth with First Aid at his heels.

Jazz turns back to Prowl and holds his servo again.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” Jazz says quietly. “I was afraid that ya weren’t gonna make it.”

Prowl tightens his grip. “You heard Ratchet. I will survive this.”

“I know, I know. But still…”

Prowl gives Jazz a small smile. “Jazz, I’m alright. You don’t have to worry anymore. You like to leave the worrying to me, remember?”

Jazz chuckles. “You’re right. But don’t scare me like that next time.”

“Heh. I assure you, I will try my best to avoid all Seeker barrages in the future.” He gives Jazz’s servo another squeeze. “I think you should get some rest as well. You look like you have not slept in orns.”

“I haven’t.” Jazz leans down and gives Prowl a light kiss on the helm. “Get some recharge, sweetspark. I’ll be back as soon as Ratchet let’s me back in.”

Jazz exits the medbay with a skip in his step. He can’t help it. It feels like ten tons of weight has just been lifted from his chassis. He can breathe again. Because Prowl is online. He whistles his favorite tune as he makes his way to his room for some recharge. There is nothing to worry about anymore.

His Prowl will live, and so will he.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about writing more Jazz/Prowl stuff soon, so we'll see what happens there. And I did actually consider writing a more intimate scene to put in here, but that didn't end up happening. Maybe in the future I'll write that, who knows.


End file.
